


A New Kind of Intimacy

by lerayon



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 16:17:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lerayon/pseuds/lerayon
Summary: My contribution to the Pitch Valentine's Gift Exchange 2018





	A New Kind of Intimacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ellabee15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellabee15/gifts).



> My contribution to the Pitch Valentine's Gift Exchange 2018

“Hey, Mike, have you seen my--” 

Ginny faltered once she reached the master bathroom and saw Mike standing at the vanity scrambling to close a jar of her night cream. She took in his flustered expression – mouth slightly open, color rising in his cheeks, eyes wide and unwilling to meet her own – then shifted her attention to the counter. Mike had several pots and tubes of her skin care products spread out all around the sink. 

Struggling to make sense of the scene, but well-aware that she’d caught him by surprise, Ginny blurted something like, “Oh, sorry, never mind,” and turned on her heel to go back the way she’d come. As she beat a hasty retreat, the thought entered her mind that it was weird to essentially flee the scene of…whatever she’d just walked in on, but she and Mike were still getting used to living together, and she was learning that this kind of awkwardness was maybe a part of the adjustment.

A few minutes later, Mike found her in the walk-in closet.

“Ginny,” he began.

“Hey, so you haven’t seen my black cocktail dress? The one from Blip and Ev’s anniversary party? She called just now to ask the name of the designer, and you know I don’t pay any attention to that stuff, but I can’t find it, and I think maybe--”

She was babbling, she knew. Babbling and stalling, and not quite meeting Mike’s eye as he moved close and reached to still her fingers as she flipped through her clothes hangers. She honestly wasn’t even looking for the dress anymore. She just wanted to avoid seeing Mike’s “deer caught in headlights” expression again. The one that made him look about 14 years old, and made Ginny feel incredibly shy.

That sensation, this surprising vulnerability, had crept up a few times recently. She had assumed that living together wouldn’t be all that different from how she and Mike had been living for the two-plus years they’d been dating. They had exchanged keys early on, and managed to carve out space for themselves in the other’s place that allowed them to pretty much forego overnight bags. Unless she was away with the team, they'd rarely spent a night apart. 

Three months ago, when they'd come to the mutual decision that Ginny wouldn’t renew the lease to her condo in the Gaslamp Quarter, she’d thought the most difficult part of the transition would be deciding which pieces of her furniture would end up with them in La Jolla.

Evelyn had tried to warn her.

“Girl, I can’t believe you’re going to live with a boy,” Evy had stage-whispered one night over a second pitcher of margaritas at Ginny’s favorite Mexican restaurant.

Ginny’d laughed at her friend's antics and shrugged, “What’s the big deal? Mike and I practically live together already. And you are married with two sons. What are you even talking about?”

“That’s just it. There’s a big difference between ‘practically’ and…whatever the opposite of ‘practically’ is, Gin. You’ll see.”

After that, Evelyn had launched into a rambling, hard-to-follow speech about new levels of intimacy, and some other stuff that Ginny hadn’t found all that applicable, seeing as how she and Mike didn’t have teenaged twin boys.

Now, standing with Mike in their closet, she tried to recall some of what Evelyn had said to find some wisdom that might help her through this strange moment. 

Mike’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Are you going to look at me?” 

Ginny dragged her eyes to his. He was peering down at her with unmasked curiosity.

“Do you, uh, do you want to tell me what was happening in there just now?” she asked.

Mike’s cheeks pinked up again, but this time his lips twitched into a shy smile. “Sometimes you come to bed smelling like apricots,” he mumbled.

Ginny’s mind stalled at this odd declaration. All she could do was gawp at him.

Mike sighed and continued, “Sometimes you come to bed smelling like apricots, but only sometimes, and I’d always kinda wondered why. Just now, I was in the bathroom, and it occurred to me I could maybe check the medicine cabinet.” He finished with a shrug and dropped his gaze. 

There he was again; that 14 year old boy. Only this time, Ginny found it to be wonderfully endearing.

She took his hand and led him back to the bathroom. Once there, she plucked a green tube from the cabinet shelf. Evidently, Mike’s sleuthing hadn’t gotten very far. 

“This,” she said, flipping open the cap, “is a night mask.” Holding it up to Mike’s nose, she continued, “I only wear it a night or two a week because that’s what it says to do on the back.” 

Mike inhaled deeply, and smiled. “Yeah, that’s it. Apricots.”

Ginny couldn’t help but smile back. “You are so weird. Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I don’t know. It felt like a dumb thing to ask, Gin. It’s not even important. Some little thing that popped into my head one night that doesn’t much matter except…except I like that you sometimes smell like apricots.”

She laughed and pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay. I think I get it now.”

As Mike let out a contented sigh and wrapped her up in his arms, Ginny made a mental note to call Evelyn for another, more sober, conversation about cohabitation and these various levels of intimacy.


End file.
